


Purple

by IAmNotOneOfThem



Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M, fae!Robbie, the crystal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:06:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotOneOfThem/pseuds/IAmNotOneOfThem
Summary: Sportacus' crystal is his life force, tied intricately to his magic and himself. Which is why he, after waking up in the middle of Lazytown without any memory of the last five hours, would very much like to know why there suddenly wasmaroonandpurple.





	

**Author's Note:**

> What's the best way of dealing with feeling depressed and like your writing sucks? That's right, _writing_. 
> 
> _Based on http://saintdiabolus.tumblr.com/post/154671025960/so-last-night-i-was-thinking-about-sportacus_.

_Breaking glass._

_Pain._

_Voices, echoing in his brain, words without meaning, an incomprehensible, incoherent sequence of sounds._

_High-pitched screaming._

_His throat feels raw. Scratchy._

_Open mouth, lips parted, **screaming**._

_Ghost touches, fingers brushing over his skin, **screaming** , pain, flashes of something, light in front of his closed eyes, **screaming**._

_Broken glass._

_Broken._

_Screaming._

**_Screaming_ ** _._

_Then suddenly, nothing._

_Darkness. Blackness. Lightlessness. Feelinglessness. Nothingness._

_No more screaming._

_No more **anything**._

\-----------------------

Consciousness came to Sportacus only slowly, step by step. First he became aware of his body lying horizontal. Then came feelings, sensations; he felt the grass under his head, tickling his palms, the blades poking against his legs. His throat was dry, as if he hadn’t drunken anything in days.

Sportacus opened his eyes.

Above him was the sky, dyed in faint reds and yellows, the sun slowly descending, close to disappearing for the night. He sat up slowly and coughed out a “Water!” up towards the shadow that anxiously hovered nearby in the sky.

The bottle came flying down moments later. Sportacus reached for it, intending to catch it as he usually did, but his fingers brushed past and the bottle dropped to the ground.

Sportacus blinked.

He looked up at the ship and back down again, staring at the bottle as if it would apologise for evading his grip by a few inches, at most.

It remained silent, of course, being the inanimate, insentient object it was, but that didn’t make Sportacus feel any better.

In the corner of his vision, something flashed and Sportacus’ gaze was automatically drawn to it.

His eyes went wide. Panicked, he removed the protection glass, took the crystal out of its casing and held it up, close to his face. It locked different, in a way he couldn’t immediately explain, because it weren’t his eyes that noticed the change, but his _eyes_.

Sportacus took a deep breath. The blue of his irises intensified, a bright colour, _super_ natural. His vision shifted. Objects became blurry shapes, fading into the background as vapour materialised, traces, remnants, of the people that had passed this place, misty tendrils, not exactly coloured, but still; there was pink, yellow and orange, red, brown, peachy, cerise and blue where his own energy had left an imprint over time.

Then he focused on the crystal.

It shone in a bright blue, the exact same shade as his signature, his _essence_ that had changed the _aura_ of the whole town, marked it as his territory, but there was more to it, something that hadn’t been there before. Spread out along the crystal’s surface in thin cracks was a purple, reddish energy, thicker and more condensed than the echoes of life force that surrounded Sportacus. The elf ran his fingers along the lines, expecting to feel rugged, cracked surface under his skin, but it was smooth, as if brand new. The energy filled the cracks, he realised somewhat in awe.

Sportacus focused on the energy, his pupils dilating, but didn’t recognise it. It wasn’t elvish in origin; it felt foreign, but at the same time resonated with something inside of him, felt familiar though he couldn’t think of any reason why.

He was the only magical being in the area; neither Lazytown nor any of the surrounding villages housed any other creatures. It was only him.

Or so he’d thought.

From the lines faint clouds of smoke, energy, arose, wisps of maroon that merged with Sportacus’ own magic. It created a deep purple aura which surrounded the crystal, seemed to come from deep inside of it. It _pulsated_ , the purple vapour washing over and seeping into his skin.

Sportacus didn’t notice he was trembling until the crystal nearly slipped out of his hand. He gripped it hard, to the point where his knuckles turned white, and scrambled to get on his feet.

Something had happened to his crystal, but no matter how much he tried, Sportacus couldn’t remember what caused it. He couldn’t remember _the last few hours_ , Sportacus realised in horror; _he couldn’t remember_.

Frantically, he turned around, so he could, at least, figure out where he was. A few metres away from him was the tree house the children had built some time ago, and he’d never been happier to see the comforting, familiar coral blend of their signatures, echoes of laughter and singing. Sportacus blinked and the auras were gone, the tree house’s walls becoming sharp again.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

It had been _years_ since he’d last used his magic in this proportion. What little he had he tended to focus solemnly on his body, inwards on his muscles and stamina. External magic wasn’t completely new to him – he’d learnt a thing or two during his training – but that had been a long time ago. Thankful for the meditations he did once in a while, as it helped him focus, Sportacus spread his awareness, extended it as far as it would go.

He fully expected the strain to become too much once he did, expected to reach, maybe, the town hall, but by the time his reach had spread all the way to the _beach_ , he realised that something was wrong.

He’d never come that far.

And it didn’t even feel like an effort.

Experimentally, Sportacus reached further and further, until he was faintly aware of the people in Mayhem Town. Thousands of coloured specks of light were dancing in front of his eyes, making him feel dizzy.

Absently, Sportacus brushed his finger over the crystal, feeling it vibrate under his skin. It was _purring_ , buzzing with energy it never had before.

It was the physical manifestation of his life force, his metaphorical heart lying on the outside of his chest. What energy he had, it reflected. It’s always been _blue_ , and now it was _purple_.

“Sportacus!”

With a snap, Sportacus’ consciousness returned to his body. He drew in a shaky, desperate breath, his lungs burning with the ache for air. Opening his eyes, Sportacus looked up.

Stephanie was standing in front of him – her head towering far above him, making him realise he had sat back on the ground without noticing – with concern plainly written on her face. Her body was flickering in faint pink, more a feeling than an actual observance.

He’d never been aware of auras without his _sight_ before.

This whole situation was incredibly _concerning_.

By which he meant he was steadily growing panicked.

“Hello Stephanie,” he greeted, becoming aware of her staring at him in worry.

The emotions on her face weakened somewhat, but didn’t disappear completely. It made him wonder what she was so upset about and how he could fix it.

“Where have you been?” Stephanie asked.

“What do you mean?”

Stephanie pulled her lips into a thin line. “You’ve been gone for five hours!”

Sportacus stared. _Five hours?_ He’d been gone for _five hours?_ He couldn’t even remember where had been before he’d gone, let alone what he’d been doing during that time!

Something about his expression seemed to surprise Stephanie, because she put her hands in front of her mouth and gasped.  “Do you… do you not remember?” She asked quietly. “But you remember who I am, right?”

“Of course I do, Stephanie! I just… don’t remember anything from the last few hours…” Sportacus furrowed his brow, gaze drawn back to the crystal. Whatever had happened, it had something to do with whatever made his crystal _purple_.

The pink girl sat down on the grass in front of him, legs crossed and index finger tapping on her chin thoughtfully. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Sportacus frowned. “I’m not sure…”

_Yelling._

_Impact._

_Pain._

_Broken glass._

**_Screaming._ **

Sportacus flinched when a hand was wrapped around his wrist, tugging on it gently. Stephanie was staring at him, the worry in her eyes gradually turning into downright fear. It was only then that Sportacus realised he’d been gripping his crystal strongly enough again to make his hand shake violently.

“Fragments,” the hero finally said, releasing his death grip. Stephanie dropped her hand, but remained close, having scooted over until their knees were touching. “Nothing concrete, just… flashes of something.”

Stephanie worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Do you remember us playing?”

Sportacus was about to shake his head when he remembered s _omething._

_Laughter, shouting, giggling._

_The strain of his muscles being worked._

_Pride. Happiness. He was happy, because he was with them, outside and active. She laughs, and he joins in, and_ she _kicks the ball towards_ him _with a stuck-out tongue._

_Dirt and grass._

_A beep._

_‘Someone’s in danger.’_

Sportacus jumped on his feet so quickly it made Stephanie yelp and fall on her back. He pulled her up carefully, tempted to spin her around before the gravity of the situation hit him again. 

“My crystal was beeping,” he said out loud. When Stephanie nodded in agreement, he continued. “Someone was in danger… but I don’t remember who.”

“It wasn’t Trixie, Pixel, Ziggy, Stingy or me,” Stephanie mused. “We were all there playing soccer. Maybe it was my uncle or Bessie?”

Sportacus tried to remember whether there had been any _brown_ or _cerise_ , but the feeling was neither of those colours; it was _maroon_. There was no one in Lazytown whose energy felt like that.

Stephanie was pink, Stingy yellow, Pixel orange and Trixie red. Ziggy felt _peachy_ , the Mayor brown, and Miss Busybody _cerise_ , red like cherries, while Robbie…

Sportacus tried to chase the thought, but it slipped from his mind, and didn’t feel all that important anymore. What had he been thinking about again? It probably didn’t matter. “I don’t think it was them,” Sportacus said. “Probably the kitten.”

“Probably,” the young girl agreed, nodding. “But that doesn’t explain why you don’t remember!”

It was Sportacus’ turn to nod. It didn’t make any sense, none whatsoever. Ever since coming to Lazytown, Sportacus’ tolerance for _nonsense_ had increased a lot, because nothing ever was normal here, but even he had his limits and this? This was _worryingly surreal_.

Stephanie began to pace. Sportacus watched her take ten steps, turn around, walk ten steps back to where she had come from, turn around again and repeat that. Each of her steps was bouncy, energetic. If Sportacus looked close enough, he could see explosions of pink mist under her feet as they touched the ground.

Then suddenly Stephanie stopped. There was fury in her eyes; he couldn’t remember ever seeing her this angry. Sportacus took a step backwards as a precautionary measure, just in case, and held his hands up. He got as far as “Wha-“ before she interrupted him.

“Robbie!”

Sportacus looked around, but they were alone, and he couldn’t spot the villain’s signature blue periscope. The elf turned back to face her and raised a confused eyebrow.

“He must have done something to your memory again!”

Sportacus got stuck on the _again_ for a moment before remembering the Memory Zapper 3000, then paused. The idea was plausible; in fact, that was probably the explanation. It seemed odd that Robbie would only remove five hours, but his machines often didn’t work as intended, so it could have been an accident.

But as likely Stephanie’s suggestion seemed, it didn’t feel right.

Elves were empathetic, touchy creatures; most of the time, Sportacus relied on his instincts, his intuition. The feeling in his gut rarely led him astray.

Right now, though, he didn’t know what to make of what he was feeling. It felt like he was _close_ to finding out the truth, but he wasn’t there _just yet_. He was missing something, an important piece of the puzzle, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

It frustrated him to no end. Something he wasn’t all too familiar with.

But at the same time, he felt, deep in his heart, that he had to go see Robbie. He didn’t know why – the moment he tried to think of a reason, he couldn’t remember what he was looking for, what he was even thinking about – but he _had to_.

He had to see...

Sportacus blinked at Stephanie, who was holding out her hand expectantly. “What are you doing, Stephanie?” He asked her confused.

She rolled her eyes. “We’re going to Robbie!”

_Robbie?_

He wanted to ask why, but she was already tugging him along, and he followed automatically. They must have been quite a sight for the rest of Lazytown’s citizens; a young pink-haired girl barely reaching the shoulders of man she was dragging behind her. Though by now, they were probably used to it. Sportacus stumbled along, letting Stephanie lead the way, because he couldn’t quite remember where they were going.

He knew she’d said where and why, but the memory was surrounded by a kind of fog, wrapped in layers upon layers of cotton. Every time he tried to tell where it came from, it evaded his grip, and his thoughts trailed off. If asked, he wouldn’t even be able to tell what colour it was.

All he knew, felt, deep down, was that it was familiar. It resonated with something inside of him.

Not knowing _what it was_ was very, very frustrating.

The next second, Sportacus couldn’t remember why he was frustrated and shrugged it off. It couldn’t have been that important if he couldn’t remember.

After a few minutes Sportacus recognised the area they were in and frowned. Why were they going to Robbie? Something in the back of his mind stirred. He didn’t want to ask, lest he confused Stephanie the way he was confusing himself, and at least one of them should know what they were doing.

Apparently Stephanie did because she was stomping over to the hatch and knocked, her other hand still holding Sportacus’. He found the physical contact very comforting and wondered whether she knew.

Human instinct was nothing compared to that of the _Huldufólk_ , but some were very perceptive, almost supernaturally so.

He was pulled from his thoughts when a very disgruntled, tired-sounding voice came from somewhere on his right. “What.”

“Let us down or come up,” Stephanie demanded, sounding as serious as an eight-year-old could sound.

“Why would I do that?”

Did Sportacus imagine it, or was there an undertone of _worry_ to Robbie’s voice?

“If you do not come up here in an instance, Robbie Rotten, I’ll replace all the candy in the supermarket with healthy stuff and all the soda with water.” Stephanie glared at the hatch. “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. I’ll do it. Come up here! It’s important!”

Apparently the threat worked, because moments later, Sportacus heard the villain climb up his chute. With a loud squeak, the hatch was thrown open and there stood Robbie, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

The first thing Sportacus noticed was that there were dark rings under Robbie’s eyes, like his mascara was all smudged up. His whole body screamed exhaustion, going deeper than his usual tiredness. Before Sportacus could dwell on that realisation any longer, Stephanie was stepping forward, lifting an accusing finger to Robbie’s face.

“What. Did. You. Do?” She gritted out. There was an explosion of pink, the energies wrapping themselves around her and making her look several feet taller.

Robbie’s eyes flickered upwards for just a second, but it was enough.

Sportacus paused.

It was like… Robbie _saw._

But that that _couldn’t be_. Unless…

Sportacus stepped aside, out of Stephanie’s peripheral vision, and focused. Robbie was too distracted by the very angry, very loud girl in front of him accusing him of a million things at once to notice the elf’s eyes flash.

The world shifted.

Stephanie’s body became see-through, blurry, as the pink of her aura stepped into the foreground. He saw the blue of his own signature, left behind from his few visits to Robbie’s bunker. Sportacus directed his eyes towards Robbie.

And nearly stumbled in surprise.

There was _nothing_. No aura, no colour, no signature, _nothing_. Sportacus looked closer. Something wasn’t right, he could feel it. There were no beings in this world without a life force; it only disappeared upon death and Robbie looked very much alive.

The air around Robbie flickered. Robbie’s frame was billowing, blurry at the edges as if it was being contained by something. For a moment, Sportacus thought he’d seen a flash of colour, but it was gone the moment he noticed. He leant in, stepped closer, didn’t realise he was right in front of Robbie and had reached for his arm until the villain gave a shout.

Colours flooded Sportacus’ eyes.

Maroon, purple and flashes of blue, flooding from Robbie’s body like air escaping from a balloon. They brushed over Sportacus’ skin, _wrapping_ around him in an embrace, and his crystal flashed, resonating with the energy. Robbie tried to struggle free, but Sportacus’ grip tightened, making it impossible to flee.

He lifted his head and his eyes found Robbie’s.

What he saw made him hold his breath.

Robbie’s eyes were liquid _silver_ , shining bright like the moon. There were specks of purple and maroon in them, reflecting the light like crystals and precious gems. It looked otherworldly. Utterly _beautiful_.

And suddenly, Sportacus remembered.

_He was just playing soccer with the children when his crystal – blue, completely **blue** and **whole** – starts beeping. In front of his mind’s eye, the image of the kitten flashes, its signature a chaotic mess of mist and colours, not yet settled. It was stuck on a tree; same as usual. _

_“Someone’s in trouble,” he tells the children with a smile. “I’ll be back in a moment.”_

_They wave at him as he flips away, letting the familiar pull of his crystal lead him to where the kitten is, sitting on a branch high up on the tree. Not high enough to be out of his reach, though. He gathers energy in his legs and jumps. Holding onto the branch, which, thankfully, was thick enough to hold his weight, he reaches out with his free hand, gently cradles the cat against his chest and jumps down._

_“Be careful next time,” he tells it and it meows as if in a promise, even though both of them know it won’t be long until it is stuck again._

_It walks away, one paw after the other, and he watches it leave, a fond smile on his face. He straightens up again, clasping his hands together._

_Just as he is about to return to the children, someone calls for him. The yell makes Sportacus turn around, searching for the source._

_Distracted as he is, he doesn’t notice something large and round fly into his direction until it is too late. He twirls around, tries to dodge, but the cannon ball hits him on the chest, sends him flying backwards and on the ground._

_The very distinct sound of breaking glass echoes in his ears._

_Then pain flares up in his chest and he cannot think straight anymore._

_Someone is approaching him and he can hear they are talking, but cannot make sense of the words. Their shoes step into his field of view, black going into white going into purple and maroon. They are talking to him, but he cannot understand. Their voice is drowned out by the high-pitched, agonised screaming of his crystal._

_Sportacus opens his mouth to speak, but no sound makes it out of his throat, which feels too dry, too scratchy. It takes him several moments to realise he_ was _making a sound; he was screaming._

_The person is touching him, their hands frantically going over his chest, cradling the shards of the broken crystal to their chest. He wants to tell them to leave it alone, to help him, but he cannot think, cannot speak, can only scream._

_It feels like dying, because he was._

_He was dying and cannot stop screaming._

_The stranger leans over him, his face hovering above Sportacus’, and the hero sees lines of confusion and worry on his forehead, around his eyes._

_The man’s lips are moving, but Sportacus cannot make out any words._

_There is a hand behind his back, pulling him up carefully. Then, a flash of colour. The light blinded him._

_Sportacus screams._

_Suddenly, nothing._

_Darkness. Blackness. Lightlessness. Feelinglessness, no more pain. No more sound, no more screaming, he cannot hear the man talk anymore. No more being. Nothingness._

_No more **anything**._

_Until suddenly, there is **something**._

_He hears a voice, speaking to him in tongues he cannot understand. He feels something being pressed against his lips, feels a hand work his jaw to chew. He tastes a faint, fruity sweetness, feels something move down his throat._

_Hears the voice’s frustration when nothing happens._

_Being like this, he has no concept of time, doesn’t know how much time passes until the voice is back again. There are hands on his chest, pressing something against his naked skin. The man is speaking. It almost sounds reassuring, but Sportacus hears the worry dripping from every word._

_Something in the man’s voice shifts._

_Even through his closed eyes, he sees the flash of light. Heat, bursting from his chest, cold, the hands that push him down, keep him from struggling. The light seeps into his skin, surges into his veins. It replenishes his energies, fixes what had been broken;_ adds _more, makes him_ more. _It isn’t just him anymore, but two, their magic intertwining, forming a connection made of purple. He_ feels _what the other is feeling; his worry, his love, his concern, how he too grows stronger again with every breath Sportacus takes._

_Sportacus’ eyes snap open._

_He stares up into the silver eyes of Robbie Rotten, sees wings made of maroon and purple energy behind his back, the light that is slowly fading from the other’s fingertips._

_In Robbie’s hand, there is his crystal, shining in three colours, blue, maroon and, where they meet, purple._

_He stares, tries to find words, but cannot speak, not even as Robbie puts the crystal back into its case so he can press his hand to Sportacus’ forehead._

_“I’m sorry,” Robbie says._

_Sportacus is blended by light._

_Something wraps itself around his mind, clouds his memories in mist, and he doesn’t remember anymore._

Until now.

In the back of his mind, Sportacus was aware of Stephanie calling his name, of the panic in her voice, but for once, he didn’t care. His grip around Robbie’s arm tightened as the villain tried to shove him backwards, away from him.

“I just remembered what happened,” Sportacus said to Stephanie, gaze still on Robbie, taking notice of the way the silver eyes widened. “Why don’t you go back to the others and tell them I’m alright. I have to talk to Robbie first.”

Stephanie hesitated. He could tell, even though he wasn’t looking at her. The pink conveyed her emotions in a way no aura had ever done before.

But, Sportacus mused, he’d never before felt so _powerful_ , _complete_ like he did now, holding Robbie’s arm, either.

“Are you going to be alright?” Stephanie asked, the uncertainty making her _pink_ twitch. Without thinking about it, Sportacus’ blue reached for it, brushing against the pink. The uncertainty is gone within the blink of an eye. “See you later!” Stephanie called and then she was gone.

Sportacus stared after her in horror, then at Robbie. The villain shrugged with one shoulder. “You can…” Robbie made a noise of non-chalance. “Why did you never-“

“Honestly, I don’t want to have this conversation _at all_ ,” Robbie interrupted him with an angry huff, “but seeing how I apparently do not have a say in this, we should go down.”

“Down…?” Sportacus asked. “Ah, _down_. No need to roll your eyes that hard, that’s not healthy.” He paused as Robbie did it again, even more exaggerated than before, then sighed. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t let go of Robbie’s arm as they moved, afraid that the man would just disappear in mist and smoke. It made going down the chute awkward, but Sportacus couldn’t care less, the singular most important thought in his mind being a simple, but loaded _what_. That was exactly what he asked the moment Robbie, after shaking off Sportacus’ arm, slumped down in his chair, spread out to convey an air of utter indifference and annoyance.

Underneath, however, Sportacus saw his nervousness. The maroon was flickering, twisting like a wild animal ready to fight or flee.

“You’ll need to be more specific, Sportaspunk,” Robbie said with a wave of his hand.

Sportacus stepped forward, drawn closer by a pull from his crystal. “What happened,” he asked. He could _see_ Robbie’s wings flutter nervously. “Why was I hit in the chest by a cannon ball?”

Robbie rolled his eyes. Control mechanism, Sportacus thought; he was attempting to look in control, uncaring. “Because you didn’t dodge.” At Sportacus’ glare, he groaned. “Fine, fine! It was my fault, alright? I was counting on you dodging and falling into the hole I dug into the ground, but you _didn’t dodge_! I already fixed what I destroyed, so you can get off my back.”

“Fixed…?”

Sportacus looked down at his crystal. It seemed to react to Robbie’s signature, pulsating with energy. Sportacus felt as if he could climb Mount Everest all by himself, without any equipment. There was energy in every single fibre of his body.

“You fixed my crystal,” Sportacus repeated. “The light… the heat…” He trailed off. It was a lot to digest at once. “How did you know what to do?”

Robbie avoided his gaze and shuffled. “I didn’t,” the villain admitted. “I tried feeding you an apple first, but that didn’t work. Then I tried a thing or two. Something worked, in the end.”

“What are you?”

The question was an appropriate one, given how until now, Sportacus had thought Robbie was ordinarily human like everyone else in town. But he wasn’t, couldn’t be, not with the power vibrating under his skin. There were also the wings. Those were a dead give-away.

Robbie hesitated, visibly torn between denying and shouting, but then settled for a third option, the truth. “Fae,” he said, gesturing to his wings. They fluttered, thin, dragonfly-like membrane shining through the vapour. A protection, a shield.

Sportacus sat down on the ground with a loud thud. _Fae_ , Robbie Rotten was a fae. That explained a lot of things, now that Sportacus thought about it. “Why did you hide?” The _‘from me’_ remained unspoken, but Robbie seemed to understand anyway, because he looked sheepish, guilty.

There was also an undertone of _fear_ in the maroon. Once again, without consciously thinking about it, Sportacus’ blue reached out and brushed over the maroon of Robbie’s wings. They quivered, fluttering nervously, before settling still. Some of the tension seemed to drain from Robbie’s shoulders.

“I don’t have the best experiences with letting people know,” Robbie said. His voice made very clear he wouldn’t say any more about that.

Luckily, Sportacus didn’t need him to. He was more than happy to drop the subject.

There was nothing left that would prevent him from doing what he did next.

Sportacus jumped to his feet and breached the distance between them with two large steps. Before Robbie could ask what he was doing, Sportacus bent down.

Seconds before their lips touched, Robbie’s aura reached for his, just as Robbie wrapped his arms around the elf’s neck.

Sportacus kissed him and they were surrounded by purple.

He only drew away once he was overcome by the urge to breathe. Panting, Sportacus rested his forehead against Robbie’s, delighted when Robbie didn’t immediately retreat again. His signature was merged with Sportacus’; no maroon, no blue, but purple, only purple.

It filled the room, flooding it with light.

Sportacus looked into the shifting, moving silver of Robbie’s eyes and smiled. “You infused the crystal with your own magic, didn’t you?”

Robbie rolled his eyes. “No, I used super glue, works wonders, let me tell you.” His wings fluttered in amusement, creating a small gust of wind.

His wings. Not wrapped in maroon anymore, Sportacus saw the fine, thin veins running through them, the almost see-through membrane that sparkled faintly, like morning dew on grass. They were the same colour as Robbie’s aura, going over into a deep, dark purple at the tips. Sportacus reached out to brush his finger over it and grinned when that made Robbie shudder under his touch.

“Is that why…?”

“Why you could manipulate Pinkie, yes. You can access parts of my magic, just like I can use some of yours." When Sportacus raised an eyebrow in confusion, Robbie sighed. "I put the crystal back together with my magic, _my life force_ , which, in return, means I absorbed some of yours. Your magic isn't completely blue anymore. It's... mixed, like mine is now."

Sportacus tilted his head in thought, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips. "Could that be the reason why I felt your emotions?"

Robbie blushed. Sportacus wanted to lick the pink until it turned red. "We’re connected. There is a part of me in you, and a part of you in me now. **Purple**.” Robbie shrugged. “Unless you elves have spare crystals lying around somewhere, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Sportadork.”

Sportacus grinned, leaning in again. “Good,” he whispered and pressed their lips together again.


End file.
